


A Mother's Intuition

by Coppercurls



Series: Improvised Healing [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: But mostly fluff, Fluff, Gen, No Incest, That's really it, also some emotional growth for grace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-07-11 14:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19929805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coppercurls/pseuds/Coppercurls
Summary: Grace wakes one morning and her programming is adjusted. She has legal documents and a bus ticket. All to help Vanya move to Chicago and start music school.But it's a wonder, you know.A wonder to step into the world and experience it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will make more sense if you read the previous work, but the gist is that post season one they went back to when they were 12, and after a bit Vanya managed to escape the academy to go to music school
> 
> Enjoy!

DAY 1

~

In the case of an emergency, Grace was able to last three days without taking time to charge. It wasn’t an ideal situation, of course, and certain processes would be forfeit in order to power more vital functions. She was fortunate, however, in that she typically got the necessary five hours on her charger a night. 

On that night however, at three fifty eight and seventeen seconds ante meridiem on March thirty-first two thousand and four, after only three-point-two-seven hours, her charging cycle was interrupted by Pogo. 

It took her one-point-two seconds to affix her ‘welcoming’ smile, and then she spoke. “Good morning, Pogo. Is there something I can do for you?”

In her recorded data, her charging cycle had only been interrupted eight times, that morning making nine. All but one of those occurrences was in relation to the health of her children. The other occurrence was in relation to Diego wanting to show her a drawing he made. She assumed one of the children was ill or injured until Pogo responded.

“I am unsure if Sir mentioned to you, dear, but you are to accompany Miss Vanya to Chicago today. You’ll be staying until next Sunday, to help her find a home and get settled.”

Grace tilted her head. “It isn’t in my programming to leave the house.”

They also hadn’t programmed her to question anything Reginald or Pogo told her to do. She was always careful not to mention she questioned them often. She didn’t mention, in this instance, that Vanya was fourteen years and nearly six months old, which was an incredibly young age to begin living on her own.

Pogo smiled at her, kindly. He was a kind and soft-spoken chimp when Reginald allowed him to be. “That’s why I’m waking you. I need to adjust your programing.”

“Thank you,” Grace said. With a blink she adjusted her smile to her ‘I appreciate your actions’ smile.

She was always careful not to mention she knew how to reprogram herself, either. Her data suggested that Pogo and Reginald would view this as an issue to be rectified. She did not share that view. 

She followed Pogo to his workshop and sat perfectly still as he entered new coding. No smile was required at this time, so she kept her face neutral. 

They finished in enough time for Grace to fix breakfast before waking the children. Toast-eggs-sausage-blueberries. When she woke Vanya and Allison, she saw that Vanya had packed her few belongings in a duffle bag and a shoulder bag, both of which sat on her already made bed. As the children ate, she wrote a meal plan for Pogo to follow through the week. 

She carefully analyzed her new programming. She could easily replicate it if need be. She set a background program to both scan and replicate a copy for her data stores.

Reginald dropped her and Vanya off at the station thirty-seven minutes and forty-two seconds before their bus departed at ten forty ante meridiem. She led her daughter through the station, easily locating their platform, and fixed her ‘pleased’ smile on her face when she saw the bus was already in.

It took only a few minutes to find their assigned seats and store their bags in the overhead bin, other than a book Vanya kept out to read and the embroidery Grace was currently working on.

As the bus pulled out onto the streets, Vanya spoke, the first time since they had left the house. “I’ve never actually left the city.”

Grace smiled. One that she had programed herself, categorized as the ‘I love you’ smile. It was reserved for her children, and Vanya was her youngest. Not literally, her data marked all their births at noon on October first, nineteen eighty-nine. But they all seemed to fall into their numbers not only as rank and personal designation, but as if they were an order of age. Thus, Vanya was her baby girl.

“Me neither, love, but there’s a first time for everything. This can be an adventure for us both.”

Vanya smiled back at her. She had grown into a vivacious girl, no longer the subdued child she had been. Grace rubbed Vanya’s shoulder before turning her attention to her embroidery. Vanya just kept watching out the window.

~

Before that day, Grace had never stepped foot outside the Hargreeves’ Manor. Her only experience with the outside world was through windows and brief news reports and the paintings Reginald allowed her to collect. 

She had never seen a cornfield or a turnpike or the sun at noon.

She had never talked to people who were unaware she was an android. 

Showing their tickets to the driver as they boarded was simple enough, and none of the other passengers seemed eager to converse. But she wasn’t used to so much idle time, and after an hour and twelve-point-five-nine minutes of stitching a rose to life, something in her yearned to be productive. And her background processes had completed their study of her new programming. 

“Vanya, dear,” Grace said, and waited the four-point-oh-four seconds until Vanya looked up from her novel to continue. “I’m going to look at my programming. I’ll simply look like I’m asleep, and it should hopefully take around two hours. I didn’t want you to be alarmed.”

Vanya blinked at her, before a small half smile grew on her face. “Of course, Mom.” 

There was nothing in Grace’s programming to explain the swell of joy and pride she felt whenever one of her children referred to her as their mother, but that was just another thing she didn’t mention.

Grace smiled her ‘goodnight’ smile, as it seemed most appropriate. Then she settled back in her seat and closed her eyes.

~

Grace opened her eyes two hours and forty-nine minutes later. It was two fifty-one post meridiem. They had twenty-nine minutes before they were scheduled to reach their destination.

“Hey, Mom,” Vanya said, and Grace responded with her ‘good morning’ smile. “We’re getting close. Did you get everything done you needed to?”

Grace thought. She had applied new programming to better help her pass as human, as well as exploring the data Pogo had transferred to her that morning dictating Reginald’s expectations for the outcome of this trip, as well as information she would need to convey to Vanya before Grace returned to the manor.

“I believe I did.” Her smile hadn’t slipped. “My da—” Humans unaware of her status as an android could overhear this conversation so she adjusted her sentence. “Pogo told me this morning that your father has us booked at a hotel until Friday morning. We’ll have to take a taxi.”

Vanya studied her. Vanya was a bright girl, and Grace did believe she’d caught on to the fact that Grace was making the children as many allowances as she could.

“I’d rather you didn’t call him my father,” Vanya said. “Did he give you money? Paperwork?”

“Yes, I have a folder in my briefcase. A social security card for both of us, and a driver’s license for me. I also have a check book, a credit card, some cash, and a list of apartment viewings he arranged for us over the next two days. 

Vanya scanned the passengers around them hurriedly, as if looking for something. “Mom,” she said, her voice a hushed whisper, “You shouldn’t talk about that so loud, someone could mug us.”

Grace tilted her head and compared that information with what she had recently installed. It seemed that talking about money in a public place was often a precursor to being robbed. “I’ll keep that in mind, love. For now, though, we should prepare to disembark.”

~

Their hotel suite didn’t have a kitchen. Vanya did not seem perturbed by this fact, simply commenting of its opulence. 

Grace turned a few times, cataloguing their surroundings. No kitchen, the hotel had a cleaning crew. Only one child. Grace hoped that settling Vanya in would keep her busy, as none of her typical duties were applicable there. 

“Do you want to set up your charging station?” Vanya asked.

Grace caressed her cheek and nodded. She assessed the living area and settled on an armchair in the corner that filled all requirements. 

It only took her five minutes and forty-three seconds to assemble, and when she was done, Vanya was curled up on the couch, having already placed her items in the bedroom, and she was flipping through some sort of catalogue the hotel had supplied. 

Something inside of Grace tensed before she sat on the couch as well. She blinked and stared at the wall in front of her. There was a large television, flanked on either side with photographs of a body of water. 

Her art had been left at home. 

It would need dusted when she returned. 

“Would it be alright if we ordered in tonight?” Vanya said, somewhat startling Grace.

“Order what in, dear?”

Vanya smiled. “Food, for dinner. Travelling tired me out.”

Grace nodded and affixed her ‘I appreciate your actions’ smile. “There’s no kitchen here.”

“Yeah, Mom.” There was a tone in Vanya’s voice that she had trouble placing, though patience seemed to be present. “There’s this list here, of restaurants that deliver.”

“Hm,” Grace hummed. “Like my grocery service.”

“Exactly! But this food is already prepared and cooked. There’s a Chinese place, I’m thinking the Kung Pao chicken.”

“Don’t forget your vegetables, dear.” Grace filed away the information about delivery food and made a note to look into restaurants in the area. She wouldn’t be able to cook. 

Grace watched her daughter adjust to this new setting. It seemed so simple for her. But Grace just watched, a pleasant but neutral look on her face. There was a lot of new information to sift through. 

When Vanya’s food arrived, she sat on the couch with it and turned on the television. She pressed around on the remote for a few minutes, a frown on her face.

Grace had not been programmed to understand popular technology. She watched Vanya, her head tilted. She might want to learn.

Vanya smiled when a loud music emerged from the speaker. Grace turned her attention to the screen, which was proudly displaying the words “Star Wars: A New Hope.” Grace smiled her ‘indulging’ smile.

A preface scrolled across the screen. “I used to—” Vanya started before pausing a moment. Grace kept listening. “I used to want to show Fi—Rhys this movie. I knew it would make him so mad.”

“You should show him, love.”

Vanya hummed and began to eat while the movie started playing. Some time later, Vanya finished her food and cleared it away, and later the movie ended. But she simply started a new one, “Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back.”

Grace felt a smile within her wiring when Vanya lay on the couch, her head in Grace’s lap. A background process noted when Vanya’s breathing leveled out and she fell asleep. But Grace let the movie continue playing, for some inane reason, and she kept threading her fingers through her daughter’s hair until it was too late to justify.

~


	2. Chapter 2

~

DAY 2: TUESDAY

~

Grace was fully charged at five forty-three and twenty-seven seconds ante meridiem the next morning. It had taken her approximately an extra hour and forty-five minutes to charge due to her interrupted cycle the night before. 

When at the Hargreeves’ manor, which was where she had woke every morning thus far in her existence, she would begin preparing breakfast for her children before waking them for the day. If she was at the manor that morning, she would have been running late due to the extended charging period. 

For the first time in her existence, she was not at the manor when she woke. As Grace considered this, a subprocess pondered the definition of home. If the manor was her home.

This was not pertinent. 

In following her daily schedule as close as possible in the new setting, she would wake Vanya and have a plan for breakfast. 

However, children often neglected rest as a concession for other activities. 

While Grace let Vanya sleep in, she ventured to the lobby. The first apartment viewing that day wasn’t until eleven thirty, at a building a sixteen minute walk away. They were in no rush.

The reception desk was unattended when she approached it, and after a minute and thirty-three seconds, Grace’s data indicated that she would likely have to ring the bell to attract the attention of an employee. It made a crisp ‘ding’ when she pressed the button.

A pristine looking girl in a shirt monogrammed with the hotel’s logo walked through the door behind the desk twenty-one seconds later. She was displaying symptoms of mild sleep deprivation. Grace carefully set aside her care-taking protocol. This girl was not her child and may not respond kindly to unwanted concern.

“How can I help you today, ma’am?” Grace recognized the girl’s smile as akin to her own ‘my pleasure’ smile. Grace affixed her ‘welcoming’ smile in response.

“Yes, dear, I was wondering if you would have any breakfast suggestions for my daughter and I. I’m afraid I hadn’t anticipated the lack of kitchen access.” 

“I apologize for the inconvenience, ma’am.” Grace wondered why this girl was apologizing. It was very unlikely that she had anything to do with the suite’s accommodations. “We do offer a breakfast service from five thirty until nine thirty each morning. If you were looking for somewhere else, though, there’s a pamphlet display that has restaurant recommendations as well as activities offered around town.”

Grace looked over to where she was pointing and saw the pamphlets. She shifted her smile to ‘I appreciate your actions.’ “Thank you, honey,” she said, and turned towards the display before she faltered. 

Her data stores had been built through access to third party sources, to updates given to her by Pogo or Reginald, and through her own careful observations. Pamphlets were curated as advertisements, and they lacked the unspeakable aspect that came with the data she had collected in situations where human bias was an asset, such as when Allison told her that purple is the ‘most best color.’

She turned back to the girl at the desk and reaffirmed her smile.

“Actually dear, is there somewhere you like to go to? Pamphlets can’t tell if food is any good.”

The girl smiled again, one that seemed more genuine. Grace filed away the concept of the genuine smile to ruminate on later. “Of course. There’s a bakery and coffee shop a couple streets west of here. They don’t have a large breakfast menu, but they have breakfast sandwiches and their coffee is fantastic. They also have a great collection of tea if that’s more your thing.”

“That sounds lovely. Thank you. ”

The girl began rattling off directions, jotting them down on a sticky note as she went. Humans did not often have perfect recall, so Grace allowed her to hand her the directions once they were written out.

“I’m sorry,” Grace said, not walking away quite yet. “I haven’t asked your name.”

“It’s Miranda.” Grace shook the girl’s hand. This was the first time Grace had ever been introduced to someone other than her children and Pogo and Reginald. This was the first time she’d been part of the customary tradition of a handshake. 

“I’m Grace. My daughter and I will be staying here until Friday morning, so I’m certain I’ll be seeing you again.”

~

Grace returned to her and Vanya’s suite at seven twenty-seven, having spent the intermittent time sitting in a chair by a window in the second-floor lounge. There were more things happening on the street here than on the street outside the manor.

She knocked on Vanya’s door before entering, but when she didn’t get a response, she walked in to shake Vanya awake. Vanya had always been such a deep sleeper. 

“Good morning, love,” Grace said as her daughter started to blink her eyes open. “It’s time to wake up.”

Grace’s ‘good morning’ smile was soft. It was one of her preferred mannerisms that she had programmed. 

“Okay, Mom.” Vanya pushed herself upright and rubbed at her eyes. “Do I have time to shower? I forgot to last night.”

“I think our schedule can manage that. Did you remember to pack soap?”

“The hotel will have some in the bathroom.”

“Alright dear. Take your time.” Grace knew that Vanya often got the short end of the stick when it came to bathroom time. Klaus, Allison, and Diego took up more than their fair share.

Grace fluffed the pillows on the couch as she heard the shower begin to run. She took a moment to pack away her charging station, so that the housekeepers wouldn’t be alarmed or upset the machinery. This took approximately five minutes and Grace was once again left with no tasks to complete.

There was a phone on a desk in their room. 

“Hargreeves’ residence?”

“Ben,” Grace said, and if she breathed she would have exhaled in relief. A silly thing. “It’s Grace.”

“Mom!” His voice had immediately become eager. “How are you?”

She heard Allison yelling from somewhere further away, “Is that Mom? I want to talk to her!”

Ben yelled back, his voice muffled like he was covering the receiver. “You’re the one who didn’t want to answer!”

Grace knew Allison would be making a response, but she started talking anyway. “Yes, dear, I’m doing well! It’s a very busy city, but we made good time on our travelling yesterday. How are you?”

“We’re good. Just life as usual here, but we miss you and Vanya.” Ben was always such a sweet boy.

She talked to him a while longer, but eventually Allison took over. By the time Vanya came out from her shower, hair braided back and wearing ill-fitting jeans and a jacket, Grace had talked to all her children except Rhys, who was in individual training. When she saw Vanya, Grace made a note that they needed to get her more clothing in the next few days as well.

She gave the phone to Vanya and recalculated timing in her head. They may have to go directly to the showings after breakfast. With that in mind, Grace picked a new outfit from the clothes Pogo had packed her.

She chose a yellow dress. Miranda had mentioned that the skies were supposed to be clear that day. Blue. Goldenrod yellow with a backdrop of sky blue. Like Van Gogh’s sunflowers.

Like art.

~

It was a lake.

Chicago was bordered in the east by Lake Michigan, one of the five Great Lakes in the northeastern quadrant of the United States of America. It was the second largest of the five, and when looking out from Millennium Park in Chicago one couldn’t see the other side.

It was like standing on the edge of the world. It was beautiful.

Or so Grace would assume. Based on human accounts.

The world didn’t have an edge, so one couldn’t stand on it.

She had never seen any body of water.

After she and Vanya had finished breakfast, Vanya had requested they walk around until they needed to go to the showings. They had followed the flow of the foot traffic, for the most part, and it led them to a park. Of course, Grace had a map of Chicago downloaded, but there was an unspeakable quality that came with the experience of supposedly aimless wandering.

“Hey, Mom,” Vanya said, causing Grace to look away from the lake. “Can I run to a corner store real quick?”

Several decision making processes kicked off in Grace at once, the most weighted of which being the concern for Vanya’s safety. But, Reginald had decided that Vanya was independent enough to live on her own. Grace should be able to allow her to go to a store alone.

“Of course, dear.” Grace pasted on her ‘my pleasure’ smile and ignore the caution that was vying for her validation. “Let me give you the credit card.”

She pulled it from her purse, an accessory she wasn’t yet used to, and handed the card over.

“Mom?” 

“Yes?” Grace’s head tilted slightly to the right. 

“Why is it in my name?”

Grace glanced at the card her daughter held out and read the lettering quickly. ‘Vanya Harris.’ Good, her documented name then. Vanya still looked confused.

“This is your credit card, love.” That didn’t seem to clarify anything. “Your fa—Reginald had it issued. He’ll pay it off at the end of every month. If there are any overly excessive purchases, you will be cut off financially, including your school’s tuition.”

Vanya’s eyes had grown wide. “Okay.” She blinked, then put it in her pocket. “I’ll be back.”

Grace watched her rush away through the calm afternoon crowd. She turned back to the lake. She could spend hours there, sitting on a bench with the smell of water around her. Waves and people chattering. It was so much more alive than her paintings were. 

It took Vanya forty-two minutes and eleven seconds to return. Grace had been fighting her protection protocol for over ten minutes. Her daughter sat on the bench behind her and began to unload the bag she was carrying.

“You were gone a while,” Grace commented. She moved to sit on the bench.

“Sorry,” Vanya said, and smiled sheepishly. “I couldn’t find this. It took me three stores.”

Grace looked at the plastic box Vanya was holding. The side facing Grace had some kind of lens and a light attached. Vanya was rifling through paper still in the bag before opening a compartment on the box and putting the papers in.

“What did you get, darling?” Grace’s concern had abided now that Vanya had returned.

“It’s a polaroid camera.” Grace just blinked at her expectantly. Neither Reginald or Pogo had thought this was pertinent information for her, so for now she would have to rely on Vanya.

“Um, so it’s a camera, but this is special film so that the photos can develop right away, it’s just better if you keep them out of direct light.” There was a pause. “Do you know what a camera is, Mom?”

“No.” Grace thought to elaborate but there was nothing more to say. 

“Well, it’s kinda like when Reginald gets the portraits painted? But an image can be captured in an instant. Here, let me show you.”

Vanya points the lens toward the modern art sculpture in the park and puts her face close to the opposite side of the box—the camera—and presses a button. There’s a whirring sound and a paper is ejected from a slot under the lens. Vanya takes the paper and sets it face down on the bench. 

“Okay, now we just have to wait for the photo to develop.”

Grace had been carefully storing all the information Vanya told her, but she also made her self a note to look into it more once Vanya was asleep that night. 

“Do you know what time it is, Mom?” she asked after a moment.

“Always, love. It’s ten forty-six.”

“And our first apartment showing is at eleven thirty?”

Grace smiled her ‘I appreciate your actions’ smile. “Good job remembering, dear. Yes, and we should likely begin making our way over at eleven, so we can catch a taxi and still arrive early.”

“We have time then!” Vanya smiled. 

For the next fifteen minutes, Vanya carefully positioned Grace to take photos. In the end, there were three that they took. 

One was a shot where Grace stood in the center in her yellow dress with her arms resting on the bannister that kept visitors from falling in the water. Her back was facing the camera and she was looking at the lake. The backdrop was the blue sky and the lake reflecting the sky, almost indistinguishable.

The second was of Grace from the side, staring at the lake. But the lake wasn’t in the shot. Just a profile of her, her hair swept to the side in one of her immaculate coifs, but the wind had led a few strands to escape. There was a small smile on her ruby red lips, one she wasn’t aware of making. Maybe that meant it was genuine. 

The last was of Vanya. Grace had positioned her on the wrought iron bench off to one side, leaving the other side empty. As she was figuring out the mechanics of the camera, a musician started playing where the park returned to the city. Grace took the photo right as Vanya had looked away and even on the film, the excitement was alight in her eyes.

As they were moving to leave the park, however, a woman approached them. Grace had no idea what she wanted. But she offered to take their photo. So Grace and Vanya stood side by side by the lake, both smiling. It was Grace’s ‘I love you’ smile. 

When Vanya showed them to Grace that evening, fully developed, Grace smiled a smile she didn’t know the name of. 

~

The realtor at the first apartment complex was four minutes late and Grace still greeted him with her ‘welcoming’ smile. She was programmed to be accommodating and patient. She was not programmed to find tardiness inconveniencing. 

The first thing she noticed was the lack of a reception area and a doorman. The building was well kept, however, and the room would do very nicely in size for Vanya, and the kitchen was well equipped, but Grace couldn’t shake that the building’s only protection was a locked door. 

She knew from the research she had done on the city the previous day that this was typical and would likely not pose any threat. She also knew that despite Reginald’s disdain for ‘Number Seven,’ he would not purposefully risk her life. She had no powers, after all, and there was nothing for Reginald to gain in endangering her.

They stopped for lunch before the next building, at a sub shop their taxi driver recommended. Vanya seemed to enjoy her food.

“I liked that place,” Vanya said after swallowing a bite of her club. “The bathtub was nice, and I liked the windows, especially the big one in the living space.”

“There are more to see, honey,” Grace said simply in response. “Now, tell me about this music school.” Vanya did, and soon enough they were headed to the next apartment showing. 

In this building, they were being shown two separate apartments. Grace immediately noted the presence of a doorman. This set her protective protocol more at ease. Before the manager of the building, Grace asked the doorman about the layout. She learned that the first two floors had no apartments and were used to house tenant amenities and conference rooms and a banquet hall that various groups could rent out. From there, the elevator access to the rest of the floors was through a door that only tenants and building employees had keys to.

Grace was already starting to believe that she would rent one of the apartments here. 

The manager that was leading their tour arrived one minute prior to the scheduled time. He began to talk about amenities the complex provided, and the way utilities were billed. 

The first apartment was on the fourth floor and was very… petite. There was only one bedroom and the balcony could be likened to a postage stamp. Grace vetoed it before even seeing Vanya’s reaction.

The second apartment was an entirely different matter.

In the moment the manager led them through the door, Grace thought it would be a good home for her daughter. It was a two-bedroom penthouse, with an open kitchen and living room, a breakfast bar the only thing separating the two. To the left of the door as they walked in was a linen closet and space for a washer and dryer.

Around the corner from there was the second bedroom and a guest bathroom. She noted that the extra space would be nice, as she assumed herself and Vanya’s siblings would be visiting. The kitchen was spacious, though Grace noted the lack of a pantry. The living room had plenty of space for a table and a couch and bookshelves, and maybe Vanya would like a television. Even with the furnishings, there would be space for Vanya to practice. 

There was a balcony off the living room, and it had room for a table and chairs, and Grace could imagine an herb garden on one end. The side of the living room opposite the kitchen housed the master bedroom with an attached bathroom. It had lovely windows that overlooked the city. They were on the eighth floor.

Grace looked to Vanya for a reaction. The girl was wide eyed.

“I didn’t think we’d be looking at places this… nice.”

A sub process reminded Grace that they had two more showings scheduled for tomorrow. 

She looked at the manager. “We’ll take it,” she said.

“Excellent.” He smiled. “Now, we can head down to my office, and we can have you fill out the application. Then, assuming your application is cleared, we can set a meeting up over the next few days to go over paperwork and have you sign a lease.”

Grace waited patiently for him to finish talking and affixed her ‘I appreciate your actions’ smile. “I’d actually prefer to sign the lease today, Mr. Ellis. I don’t think an application will be necessary.”

The manager opened his mouth, likely to contradict her, but Pogo had installed coding that was meant to guide her through an interaction such as this. She pulled an envelope from her purse and removed a carefully counted stack of hundred dollar bills. Five thousand dollars, to be exact. She handed it to him as his arms seemed to react quicker than his thoughts.

“I trust this can expedite the process?”

The man blinked at her a moment, and Vanya grabbed her wrist like she would when she was a child and her anxiety was acting up. 

“I believe we can have you sign the lease today, ma’am.” The smooth cadence of his voice almost covered up his shock at this change of events.

“Very good.” Grace smiled her ‘thank you’ smile. “And if possible, we’d like to begin moving in on Thursday.”

He visibly gulped. “Yes, ma’am.”

They left at three sixteen and fifty-three seconds post meridiem with the lease signed, guidelines introduced, and the understanding that Grace would begin sending movers on Thursday to bring in furniture.

As they were walking out, Vanya spoke, after being silent for most of the meeting.

“That was so badass, Mom.”

Grace smiled her ‘I love you’ smile. “Language, dear.” She paused. “That was nothing.”

~

The evening passed much the same as the last. They ordered food to their hotel room, deep dish pizza. Vanya practiced her violin, while Grace listened, entranced. They watched a couple movies, ‘The Goonies’ and ‘The Breakfast Club.’ Vanya retired for the night and Grace researched more about human life in the city and photography before assembling her charging station.

She began to reschedule her time here, as they now had an extra day without apartment showings.

She wondered if Vanya had any ideas.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!   
> Sorry about the gap between updates, I haven't had access to wifi, since I've been visiting my family and they live in a cabin in the forest that just got running water in November. My family is Wild.
> 
> In regards to this chapter:  
> 1) I LOVE writing from Grace's pov  
> 2) I apparently have no concept of consistent chapter lengths -\\_( ' 'J )_/-  
> 3) If someone with artistic ability were to draw any of the photos I described I would Cry and Owe You My Life and also write you a couple thousand words of a tua fic you request? 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and if you have time to drop a kudos or comment you would truly make my day
> 
> <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***warning*** Grace discusses her life at the manor, and it is paralleled to the life of a victim of marital abuse, as well as outsiders assuming that's what her life is

~

DAY 3: WEDNESDAY

~

Grace had never before analyzed her proclivity to consistent schedules, as it was pertinent with seven children and Reginald in charge of the household. However, there was now no set schedule, just a list of tasks that needed completed before the day was over.

She found herself following her previous pattern regardless.

Her charging cycle was completed at five ante meridiem on the dot that morning, as it was meant to barring unforeseen circumstances. She packed her charging station away and laid out a new outfit for the day. 

An extra hour of sleep would do no harm to Vanya. 

First, Grace made her way down to the reception area, hoping to find Miranda there. And she did. Grace enjoyed talking to the young woman, learning about her life as an artist specializing in paintings and working at the hotel to supplement her income. Grace responded by talking about her children.

She talked about Luther and his recent passion for gardening. About Diego, how he was a mama’s boy at heart and so protective of her and his siblings. And Allison, who had begun to sketch designs for blouses and dresses and blazers. The way she had taught Klaus how to dance, to waltz and swing, and he had taught her what dances he had learned when he wasn’t at home. She told Miranda about Rhys and how he was so brilliant with his equations, and Ben with the way he devoured novels.

“I thought it was just you and your daughter here?” Miranda asked. “Vanya?”

Grace smiled her ‘don’t be silly’ smile. “Yes, she’s my youngest. Vanya got into a music academy here, she’s incredibly talented on the violin. Sir thought I’d be best to come with her. Though I don’t have much real-world experience, I’m afraid. It’s been quite the learning curve.”

“Is Sir your husband?” Miranda’s voice had layers, one of concern under her polite curiosity. Grace wondered what she’d said for that concern to arise.

“My children’s father, yes.” Grace wondered if she should elaborate. Something in her didn’t want to lie to this woman, though, so she refrained.

“And you don’t get out much?” The concern was there again, and stronger. 

It took Grace’s decision-making processes a moment to stop resetting. Almost as if she were panicked. “That’s correct. I’ve been with Reginald a long time, taking care of the household, and I love being around my children.”

Grace hoped this would be enough to deter Miranda’s questioning.

It seemed it was. “Your kids sound fantastic,” she responded easily. Though there was still a slight worry in the wrinkles on her forehead, her tone seemed to accept Grace’s answer.

Grace was relieved. She almost felt as if her and Miranda were beginning to display signs of friendship, and she didn’t want to cause Miranda harm. She knew her family was an unusual circumstance and it wouldn’t do for anyone to be questioning that.

“Do you have a studio, dear?” Grace said, changing the subject. “I do enjoy looking at paintings and Vanya and I will be decorating the new apartment.”

Miranda’s face lit up. “You really liked the pictures I showed you?”

“I loved them.” Grace smiled her ‘supportive’ smile.

“Well, I don’t have a studio, I just work in my apartment. But I get off work today at one? If you’d want to swing by and look at some pieces?”

“Absolutely.” 

Miranda kept babbling excitedly and managed to scrawl out her address at the same time. Before Grace left, they had decided that Grace and Vanya would stop by at three that afternoon. 

Grace returned to her room at six forty-eight to the sound of the shower running. It seemed that Vanya was already awake. She changed into her new outfit—polka dot skirt, black and white blouse. The water stopped while Grace was checking her purse for what they’d need through the day. 

Vanya came out a few minutes later, once again in clothes that barely fit her, her jeans cuffed so they didn’t drag and a sweatshirt that looked like one of Luther’s dwarfing her. Grace made another note about clothes shopping.

“Mom?” she said as she was twisting her hair up into a bun on the top of her head. 

“Yes, love?”

“Can I get a haircut today?”

Grace’s decision-making processes set off, weighing the pros and cons of sentimental value, identity through presentation, a teenager’s need to control what they can, and how odd it would be to see her daughter without the haircut she’d had all her life.

“I think that would be alright. What were you thinking?”

Vanya blinked like she hadn’t expected to get that far. “A short bob? And I’m thinking about maybe growing my bangs out.”

“We can find a salon after breakfast then.” Grace tried to picture Vanya with a bob. She would just have to see.

They went for breakfast at the same café as the previous day, and they maintained the relaxed pace they had held so far this trip. Nothing in their day relied on strict timing, other than their meeting with Miranda that afternoon, so Vanya read a book one of her brothers gave her, and Grace picked a book off the café’s shelf on how to learn German. Grace only suggested leaving at eight forty-five.

As she returned her borrowed book, she asked one of the baristas if there was a reputable salon nearby. She was directed down the street a few blocks and to take a left then there would be a salon on their right.

And so they went. Vanya held onto Grace’s hand once the crowds got thicker, to which Grace responded with her ‘supportive’ smile. Physical touch was one of Vanya’s traditional methods of seeking comfort. But for most of the walk, Grace watched in awe the movement of the city around her. 

Her data had always indicated that places like these existed, cities that made a steep spike on the population density maps, but Grace had never fully considered the energy that came from so much life teaming around her.

It was invigorating. 

The door that bore the salon name the barista had recommended led them down a long brick hallway before they hit another door labelled the same way. Vanya’s eyebrows were raised nearly to her hairline. Grace smiled her ‘supportive’ smile before pushing open the door.

It was a neat room painted turquoise and three of the walls held shelves of hair and skin product. The wall that faced the door had a simple desk in front of it with two computers, a woman with a high bleach blonde ponytail typing at one of them. The wall didn’t connect on either side, instead leaving two openings that led to the rest of the salon.

“Hi!” said the blonde woman in an incredibly cheery voice. “What can I do for y’all today?”

Grace smiled her ‘welcoming’ smile. “We were hoping you would have an appointment for my daughter—” here she set her hand on Vanya’s shoulder—“to get a haircut.”

“Today?”

“Yes.” Grace waited calmly while the blonde woman looked at the computer.

“Um, okay, so it looks like we would be able to get her in a bit later. Say, one thirty?”

“That would be excellent.” Grace smiled her ‘I appreciate your actions’ smile.

“Thank you!” Vanya said, with a smile as well, one that hinted at both nerves and excitement.

The receptionist confirmed the time and told them the name of the stylist Vanya would see, then they left. 

It was a quick taxi ride to get to one of the furniture stores Pogo had ‘suggested’. They spent their time for the next few hours picking out color schemes, deciding not to paint until she was more settled. They decided on how to style the apartment. Vanya’s ideas were much more suited to comfort than the design choices of the manor, but Grace tried not to let that unsettle her.

There would be three twin beds in the guest room, since Vanya was hoping her siblings might be able to visit occasionally. She selected a vanity and some bedside tables and hanging shelves and the three bedframes all in a dark hickory wood. The duvets and curtains were in a light peach.

Her decisions for the kitchen accessories and decorations all stayed a nice garden green with black accents. The black carried over into the living room.

“Mom, I just… Let’s do a big black sofa bed, and black armchairs and loveseats and a black coffee table. I don’t even want a formal dining table. And, like, white curtains and pillows and throw blankets. Then, we’re going to your friend’s later, right? Maybe we could commission her for a bunch of really bright and colorful paintings?”

“That sounds lovely, darling.”

Grace did manage to talk her into an expandable dining table, though. One that could stay out of the way, against the wall, until it was needed. 

Her bedroom was the most difficult for Vanya to design. She knew she wanted her bed to be frameless and to go right under the windows at the corner of the room, and she knew she wanted an armoire and a futon and a couple of bookshelves, but the color scheme was the hardest for her to decide on.

In the end, she chose pale shades of purple and beetle kill pine for the furniture.

“I dunno,” she said. “Something plain might be nice sometimes.”

“It will be beautiful.”

Vanya smiled her uncertain smile and nodded.

Grace arranged for everything to be delivered the next day, paying extra at locations, such as the kitchen supply store, that didn’t typically offer that service. She considered absently if it could be considered bribery if it was what she was programmed to do.

~

That afternoon, Grace and Vanya left the salon just twenty minutes before they were supposed to arrive at Miranda’s. Grace had to admit, Vanya looked quite sharp with her new short haircut.

It had only taken moments for Grace to update her recognition software with Vanya’s new appearance. When all was said and done, however, it took her the rest of the evening to get rid of the unexpected rendering every time she looked at her daughter.

She might need to run a scan for a glitch.

She looked so grown up now. 

Grace considered the human concept of pride. She considered that it was something she felt toward her children. Something in her, some subprocess, screamed that yes, she was proud of her children, that she loved them. That maybe programming wasn’t all there was to her existence.

That was a consideration for another time.

For now, she knocked on the door to the apartment that Miranda had listed. A woman, not Miranda, opened the door, her dirty blonde hair tied back at the nape of her neck. Grace smiled her ‘welcoming’ smile.

“Oh! You must be Grace,” the woman said, stepping back from the doorway and waving them in with a calm grin. “Miranda freaked out last minute and decided the art room wasn’t tidy enough to have you in it. She should be out in a minute.”

Grace carefully kept her smile in place while observing the room, her protection protocol noting threats and exit routes. It was a fairly cramped living room, with one window that led to the fire escape. 

“Yes, hello,” Grace said. “Yes, I’m Grace, and this is my daughter Vanya.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She stuck her hand out to shake Grace’s, and Vanya’s in turn. “I’m Amelia, Miranda’s girlfriend. Would either of you like tea or something while you wait?”

Grace declined, but Vanya accepted a chamomile with a spoon of sugar. Amelia disappeared to the kitchen. Grace and Vanya stayed in the living room, however, looking at the art that was plastered to all available surfaces. They were certainly a testament to Miranda’s skill.

Amelia returned and handed Vanya her tea just a couple minutes later. Vanya thanked her and Grace was about to start a conversation when Miranda rushed into the room, her sloppy bun nearly falling out completely in her haste.

“Grace!” She said, and when Grace stood to greet her, she was pulled into a quick hug before Miranda turned her attention to Vanya. “And you’re Vanya. I’m Miranda. I don’t think we’ve actually met.”

Miranda shook Vanya’s hand quickly, before sitting next to Grace on the couch. Vanya’s eyes were alight in humor. Grace noted that she seemed to have taken to Miranda already. Grace wasn’t sure why such a thing mattered, made her so pleased.

“Hi,” Vanya said, and she sat on the bench that was pushed against a wall, while Amelia settled on the recliner in the corner. 

“Thanks for letting them in babe.” Miranda said, before turning her attention to her guests. “So, what type of pieces are you looking for?” The question seemed to be directed mainly at Grace, but Grace shifted her attention to Vanya, wearing her ‘supportive’ smile.

“Um, so I was thinking, just something grey scale for the master bedroom. It’s all light purples and that beetle killed pine wood. Then, in the second bedroom? It’s peach and a kinda dark, hickory-ish wood, maybe one big painting? Or three smaller ones, one to go over each bed. And for the living room, I think that might have to be a commission, so we could talk about that before we leave today?”

Monica smiled, so much more relaxed than Grace has seen her before, when they were at the hotel. “That sounds solid. We’ll have to chat about the living room, I might have something that would work. And it’d be cheaper than commission.”

Grace’s data recalled the way Vanya had reacted to her casually discussing finances when they were on the bus. She decided not to mention that money was not a concern.

“Cool,” Vanya said with a smile. Grace noted that Vanya was already relaxing in the presence of these two young women, even though she normally took a more extended time to settle in foreign social situations.

A part of Grace began to consider. The same part of Grace that considered Reginald wrong to let a fourteen-and-a-half-year-old girl live on her own.

“Let’s go take a look at what I’ve got,” Miranda said as she stood.

Vanya followed suit, but Grace stayed sitting.

“If it’s alright with you, dear, I trust your artistic judgement.” Grace smiled her ‘supportive’ smile when she saw Vanya begin to blush. “I’d like to sit with Amelia, if that’s no trouble.”

Amelia was able to wipe the shock off her face with her next blink, but Miranda’s eyebrows stayed risen. “Yeah, no, yeah that works. Just holler if you need us.”

With that, Miranda led Vanya down the hall to the studio room. 

“Um,” Amelia faltered for a moment, half out of her chair as if she was searching for something to do with her hands while she and Grace talked. A sign of nervousness. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink? Miranda will probably talk your daughter’s ear off about her work, so it might be a while.”

Grace laughed lightly, as she heard the humor in Amelia’s voice, and considered her current data flow. Some hosts considered it rude or a sign of disdain if a guest refused refreshments. Reginald had equipped her with a containment unit for substances ingested orally. The intended use had been for poison detection, and as such all her flavor sensors are tailored to that, but it should function in this circumstance as well. 

“On second thought, some tea would be lovely, if it’s not any trouble.”

“Of course not,” Amelia smiled, and looked relieved to have something to do. That reminded Grace of Diego, the way he always needed to be doing something with his hands.

This time, Grace followed Amelia as she went into the kitchen. She stood with her back to a counter as Amelia buzzed around her kitchen.

“What kind of tea do you like?” Amelia said once she’d set water to boil.

Grace considered. The tea selection available at the manor was all herbal, as Reginald held any form of caffeine in low regard. As such, she was unfamiliar with tea but for the selection in the manor.

“Do you have,” Grace paused, and considered the experiences her scent filters had with various teas, “anything with lavender?”

Amelia smiled. Grace was beginning to recognize the ease in that gesture. “Yeah, does lavender vanilla work?”

“That sounds delightful.” Grace smiled. 

A subprocess iterated that socializing with people from outside the manor was surely not an intended side effect of Reginald’s. Grace decided to discard that conclusion.

“Sugar? Milk?” 

Grace considered. “No, thank you.” No sense in obstructing the flavor.

The water came to a boil, and Amelia took it off the burner to cool a minute before steeping the tea. Grace used the same method when making tea for Pogo and Ben. 

The two women sat in silence, and Grace accessed her data to peruse safe conversation topics for new acquaintances. 

“How did you and Miranda meet?” she asked after two-point-seven-two seconds.

Amelia smiled a soft smile, one similar to the one Diego would wear around her in quiet moments. “We went to school together, down at SCAD.” Grace was unfamiliar with that school, so she made a note to research higher education when given the chance. Amelia, however, seemed to note her lack of familiarity. “It’s an art school, down in Georgia. 

“We met the end of our freshman year. I was an architecture major, and she hadn’t quite decided, but she knew she wanted to do something based in drawing, so we shared a perspectives class.”

“Is that when you started your relationship?” Grace wasn’t sure what the appropriate extent of this line of questioning was, but she had very little data on the processes behind and involved in human romantic and sexual relationships. 

Klaus was already showing a proclivity to romance, as he would chatter away about a love he had in another lifetime, a man named Dave. Grace knew his continued strength in imagination would be an asset to him, but she’d been meaning to increase her database on romance, so she could be a better support to him in that aspect.

Yet another thing for her to research.

Amelia regarded Grace for a moment, a light laugh on her lips, but Grace could track the cold calculation in her eyes. And she saw the moment where something in Amelia decided to trust her.

“Not quite. We became good friends then, but I wasn’t sure if she was into girls. But over the summer, we called each other so much, almost every day. Sometimes we would spend hours, just talking about anything. My dad complained about the phone bill every time he got it, but he didn’t ask me to stop, so I didn’t. 

“We met up as soon as we were both at campus, and something between us just… it clicked. I was still too nervous to say anything, but right before the semester started, Miranda asked me out. It’s been four and a half years now.”

There was a tenderness in Amelia’s voice, and that slight smile never left her face. Grace considered this new display of affection. 

“That’s a sweet meeting,” Grace said. “I’m glad you decided to be together, you’re a lovely couple.”

Amelia laughed lightly again, a mannerism that seemed to be common for her. Something about her felt… weightless, somehow, something Grace had never seen. Her data indicated that it was a sign of happiness. 

“What about you?” Amelia said as she handed Grace her now steeping tea. “Miranda said you have a lot of children?”

And here, Grace’s decision making processes set off. Her family was an unusual circumstance, it wouldn’t do for others to be questioning or commenting on it.

She and Miranda, and now she and Amelia, were displaying signs of a blooming friendship.

Vanya was going to be living on her own here.

Grace considered her next words carefully. Reginald had installed a very specific protocol barring her from discussing her status as an artificial intelligence with people other than occupants of the manor, and she hadn’t thought to change it before now. The Umbrella Academy was in the public eye, Reginald would be very upset if their image were to be tarnished.

But her data indicated that Amelia and Miranda were trustworthy.

But Vanya would soon be alone here.

And that was the deciding factor, when it came down to it.

“Ah, yes, I have seven children. Vanya, of course, she’s my youngest. Then there’s Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Rhys, and Ben.” Her children were a safe subject to begin with. 

“You look far too young to have seven children, especially if Vanya’s the youngest.” Amelia’s tone was still light, no judgement, just curiosity, as if she wanted to get to know Grace better.

“They’re adopted, don’t worry.” Grace laughed and chose her ‘pleased’ smile to wear. She did love talking about her children.

“That’s a relief,” Amelia laughed with her. “I couldn’t imagine giving birth twice, let alone seven times.” Grace hummed her agreement. “What made you decide to adopt seven children? Are you married?”

“Well,” and this was where the conversation became tricky. Grace had very little programming or data regarding subterfuge. “I’m afraid I’m their mother in sentiment only. Reginald, he’s their adoptive father, he had an… obsession with collecting children born on the same day, and he’s a very wealthy and influential man, so it isn’t easy for anyone to refuse him.”

Amelia’s expression had grown wary again, beneath her smile. Now, though, Grace understood the source of the concern. 

“He realized that employing multiple nannies to care for the children was impractical, so when they were four, I entered the picture. He doesn’t care much for the children, after a while, so they are mine to care for, unless he decides to step in.”

“Huh,” Amelia said after Grace had been silent a moment. “He sounds like quite the character.”

Grace laughed. “That’s certainly one way to describe him.” She paused again, but this time Amelia stayed quiet while she considered her next words. “I’m afraid I’ve told you this all as a preface of asking a favor.”

Amelia smiled, such a tender and supportive gesture. She also lay her hand on Grace’s forearm, a movement that Grace recognized as offering comfort. She wasn’t sure that she could need comforting.

“Of course,” Amelia said. “If I can help out at all, of course.”

“Thank you, dear. See, I’m only here long enough to get Vanya settled in her new apartment. Sir Reginald expects me back by Sunday evening.”

“But,” Amelia paused, indignation written on her face. “She’s so young, definitely too young to live on her own!”

Grace smiled, a smile she programmed on the fly. A smile tinged with uncertainty and sadness. “That’s my concern, yes. She’s fourteen.” Amelia was frowning now. Grace hadn’t meant to upset her. “I was hoping that you, and Miranda too, might be able to check in on her occasionally? I’ll only be able to visit once a month.”

“Yes,” Amelia said, no hesitation in her voice. “Absolutely. I’m sure Miranda will agree, but even if she doesn’t, I will be going over at least every few days.”

“I don’t want it to be a bother, of course. I just… Vanya’s so young.”

“It’s no bother at all. You’ll have to give me the address, and I’ll give my phone number to you, so Vanya can call if she ever needs anything.” Somehow, Amelia already sounded protective of Grace’s daughter. 

“I can’t say how grateful I am.”

“Really,” Amelia said, her thumb rubbing against Grace’s skin. Comfort. “I’m happy to do it.”

Before Vanya and Miranda reappeared, Grace and Amelia had a plan in place for the next few days, and for after Sunday as well. They had even begun discussing other topics, Grace questioning Amelia about her life, and about her work as an architect for the city.

Talking to Amelia was an enjoyable pastime. 

“We’ve got it all figured out,” Vanya said, beaming. 

Miranda walked over to Amelia to lean against her. She smiled at Grace. “We sure did. Vanya picked out four pieces, one for the guest room, three for her room. She said you’d just be setting up on Friday and Saturday? I figured I could come by on Saturday to hang them.”

“And for the living room?” Grace asked.

“On Saturday I’ll—”

But Vanya cut Miranda off. “A mural.”

Miranda gave Vanya a fake glare. “As I was saying, I’ll take a look at the space on Saturday and we’ll come up with something. Vanya said the walls can be painted?”

“Yes,” Grace said. Money could persuade if they found the rules stated otherwise. “This sounds excellent. Thank you, dear.”

Vanya seemed to notice then that her mother was holding a half-drunk mug of tea. She looked askance at Grace, who simply responded with her ‘pleased’ smile.

“What time were you planning on coming? Amelia and I talked about having a dinner that night, as a bit of a housewarming. And, well, you are the only people here we know so far.”

Miranda tilted her head so she could look at Amelia’s face while still resting her head on her shoulder. “We could come around 2? Then we can help with setting things up too, before making dinner.”

“Be warned, Grace, Miranda shouldn’t be allowed into a kitchen.” Amelia’s voice was teasing as she looked down at her girlfriend. “She burned water once.”

Grace watched them exchange what felt to be an age old argument, but their voices stayed light, stayed teasing. Her data indicated that she had not observed such… ease between two people before. 

She laughed lightly. “In that case, we’ll see you Saturday? I’ve given Amelia the address already.”

“Did she give you our number? I’ve got Friday off work if you need help with anything.”

“Yes.” Grace smiled her ‘good night’ smile, and moved to the door, Vanya following her lead. “Have a lovely evening, ladies. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

They stepped out into the hallway and began to walk down to street level to hail a cab. Grace realized, in a moment that caught her off guard, that it was five-forty-eight post meridiem. She didn’t typically ‘lose track’ of time.

“So,” Grace said, “back to the hotel? Or do you have something else in mind?”

Vanya thought a moment, her face illuminated in the head- and tail- lights of passing vehicles. Grace scheduled a reminder to keep a camera on her in the future. “Could we sit by the water again? Maybe get a sandwich on the way?”

Grace smiled her ‘I love you’ smile and reached to push Vanya’s hair behind her ear, to keep it from blowing in front of her face. Her hair was lighter now, easier for a stray breeze to manipulate.

“Yes, love.”

~

Cobalt blue is not a set state of being. 

See, the water will reflect and change and set itself alight if provoked by the sky and the sun. Provoked to a purple twilight that could be drown in. An echo of Homeric inspiration; this ‘wine-dark sea.’

Nature in the suspension of day and night. 

But the city at night is not at the mercy of the moon. 

At two-oh-two ante meridiem Vanya approached her mother silently, the source less wind whisking away all sounds she made. She kissed the charge addled Grace on her forehead and allowed these words to fill the silent room.

“I love you, Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all lovely humans and I cherish each of you.
> 
> God willing this will be the longest chapter. But, y'know, I hadn't planned on the lesbians so my entire notion of what this story is doing is fucked. 
> 
> As always,, thank you so much for taking the time to read, it means a lot. If you kudos or comment, I will cry and name a tear after you. 
> 
> Next up: Thursday
> 
> Addendum: so far, I’ve been pretty good at updating this series at least once a week, but I’m in the middle of moving, on top of working, and I’m going on a road trip next week, then my mom is visiting for the weekend. So, yeah, chapter updates may be scarce for a hot second. Sorry :/


	4. Chapter 4

~

DAY 4: THURSDAY

~

The morning began at five ante meridiem on the dot. 

Grace did not shake off any lingering sleep, she did not need to. The sun had not risen yet and she was again faced with unscheduled time. 

She packed away her charging station. She changed into the day’s outfit: dark red a-line dress with of-the-shoulder sleeves, pearl necklace, nude heels. She adjusted her hair molecules to pin curls.

It was five eighteen and three seconds. 

The elevator ding had been catalogued in her personal experiences for days, and she added a tally of how many times she had heard it.

Miranda was standing at the reception desk this morning, helping another guest. Grace formed a queue behind him at a respectful distance and waited. He left a number of minutes later, not seeming altogether too pleased.

Grace noticed that Miranda’s smile lost an ingenuine quality when she realized Grace was there. The quality of the genuine. It was still a mystery. 

“Good morning, Miranda,” Grace said, stepping up to the counter.

“Morning, Grace, is Vanya still asleep?” 

Grace smiled her ‘pleased’ smile. She wondered if her smiles looked genuine. Free. “Yes.” Grace rested her hands on the counter, overlapping. “At the manor, we stick to a rather strict schedule, but I thought this would be a good chance for Vanya to sleep in more.”

Miranda’s entire face tightened. Grace’s data indicated it could be a sign of anger, or unease. “Yeah, um, ‘Melia told me a bit about the manor, I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course, dear. I assumed she would.” Her ‘don’t be silly’ smile. 

A half smile, tugging at Miranda’s lips but she looked so wry. “Yeah, I just, yeah, thank you so much for trusting us.”

Grace’s smile faltered. “I hope I didn’t put too much on you. It’s only that Vanya is still a child, my daughter, and I can only visit once a month. It’s quite the relief that we’ve met people so willing to watch out for her, since I can’t.”

“If you ever need anything, Grace, anything, you’ve only got to call. You have our number.”

“I can’t thank you enough. Truly.” Grace blinked. Grace considered the intention of tears. 

Miranda squeezed one of Grace’s hands. Comfort, again. 

“It’s- It’s a bit personal to me, I’ll admit,” Miranda said, after the silence had weighed a moment too long. “I don’t talk about it much but… Well, my parents kicked me out when I was sixteen. Kids shouldn’t need to figure it out by themselves.”

Grace nodded. She needed to protect her children. They were so far away. She didn’t know how to save them.

The women stood there, each in her own contemplation. The moment only broken as a cook wheeled a tray of breakfast items to the dining room. 

“Oh,” Grace said. “I was meaning to ask, is it possible for me to get tea?”

Miranda snorted. “Hun, you haven’t used any of the so-called luxury services in this hotel, have you? I can get a pot sent up. What do you like?”

Grace tilted her head, ‘I appreciate your actions’ smile back in place without a stutter. “What’s most popular?”

“You know? I’ll surprise you.” 

Miranda’s smile was filled with a wicked sort of glee, the way Klaus would smile when he was planning to surprise or prank one of his siblings. Grace’s data indicated that she might be about to drink an interesting cup of tea.

~

A bellhop delivered the tray three minutes and forty-seven seconds after Grace had returned to her room. She thanked him and set the tray on the coffee table. There was a note, and the handwriting looked like it was scrawled in a hurry:

‘Blueberry-elderflower white tea, two wedges of lemon juice and one spoon of sugar per cup. -M’

Grace followed the instructions Miranda noted and sat in the armchair by the window. Her sensors recorded the heat of the cup, the aromatic steam, the muted bustle of the streets below. She sat and drank her tea and watched the people in the city. She drained and cleaned her ‘orally collected substances’ receptacle. 

She prepared and drank another cup. As she did this time, she carefully analyzed her taste sensors and compared them to information she had researched for human taste buds.

She adjusted her programming. 

She would have to tell Miranda she enjoyed the tea.

~

She finished her morning’s programming and research to find Vanya sitting on the couch, showered and dressed for the day. She had ordered tea as well and was reading a book.

“Good morning, darling,” Grace said.

Vanya smiled before looking up, carefully marking her place. “Morning, Mom. Do we have plans today?”

Grace smiled her ‘I love you’ smile. “I thought we could spend the morning and early afternoon shopping.” Vanya looked ready to ask a question, but Grace wasn’t done speaking, and it was likely once she was Vanya’s question would be answered. “I’ve noticed many of your clothes seem to be your siblings.”

Vanya flushed lightly. “Um, yeah. I mostly just borrowed Klaus or Rhys’s stuff if I was going out of the mansion.”

“Quite smart, dear. But I thought it would be good for you to have your own wardrobe.”

She fiddled with the sleeve of the flannel she was wearing. Grace recognized it as one Ben wore to sleep in. “Would…” Vanya trailed off. “Do you think they would mind if I kept some of their clothes?”

Grace smiled her ‘don’t be silly’ smile. “I’m sure they’re glad to share.”

Vanya nodded with a smile. “I should still have my own stuff though.”

“I agree.”

~

Breakfast in the café was pleasant as usual. This time, Grace tried a chai tea. Vanya had a bagel and a latte. Grace found an urge to catalogue the taste of a latte.

“Hey, Mom,” Vanya said after a few minutes. Grace turned her attention away from ‘people-watching’ as her data had dubbed it and tilted her head to look at her daughter. “I’ve noticed you’ve been drinking tea. I guess, I mean, I didn’t know you could do that.”

Grace analyzed the body language of those around them to see if they would be overheard. It seemed like no-one was particularly interested. “Yes, love. I have taste sensors. Reginald wanted me to be able to… taste-test for certain harmful chemical compositions. I’ve just adapted them. Part of you moving out requires me to understand human customs, and I believe human food and drink is part of that.”

There was the hint of a smile on Vanya’s face that Grace couldn’t place. “That sounds really fun, Mom.”

Grace smiled her ‘my pleasure’ smile and returned to watching the shop’s patrons.

But she was preoccupied. Vanya, her little girl, used to be the most demure and subdued of her children. That had been changing in recent years.

Specifically, it began on the night all of her children changed. She had noticed, of course. Though adolescents were likely to experience dramatic changes both physically and mentally at the ages of thirteen through eighteen, there were no precursors to that night. She had looked.

The children seemed to be hiding it from Pogo and Reginald, and while she had noticed, she hadn’t deemed it a threat to the household, so the changes went unreported. 

But Luther was less eager of a leader, and as a group they seemed to be striving for a more democratic system. He and Diego were less likely to jump down each other’s throats after that first week where all of them seemed on edge. Allison was more patient, more maternal towards her siblings. Klaus was still as eccentric, but she was less worried. He wasn’t as self-destructive. 

Rhys was so noticeably different. He was still arrogant, but he was more on edge, and he stayed that way long after the others had grown comfortable. He’d even rescinded his earlier dismissal of a name and requested that he get one, specifically a unisex name.

Ben was less afraid. More likely to snark and joke with his siblings. And Vanya was less of a ghost, growing more and more life-like every week, though still trying to act subdued even in the weeks a gust of wind followed her everywhere.

Grace had noticed when Vanya had stopped taking her pills. Of course she had. But again, Pogo and Reginald hadn’t. And this change set off every alarm bell in Grace, every line of her coding urging to tell Reginald immediately.

First, it seemed like Vanya was just cutting back on the reactionary dosages, only taking them each morning and night. Then Grace saw her palm the pills at breakfast, pretending to swallow but swallowing nothing.

The morning schedule was strict, so Grace had to wait until that afternoon to alert Reginald.

Right before lunch, Vanya and Diego came to help her bring out the dishes. They were smiling and laughing. Like children should. Then Diego had said something.

“God, Vanya, I can’t juggle, lay off.”

Before, Vanya was complacent with this sort of jab. She wouldn’t react more than a slump in her shoulders. That day was different. 

“Oh? Mr. I-can-manipulate-projectiles can’t juggle? You should get on that.”

And they kept teasing, sending light jabs at the other. 

Grace couldn’t place what had changed for a moment. Her daughter was comfortable. She couldn’t recall that having been the case ever before.

Though Grace had figured out how to alter her code months before, she hadn’t had the need to yet. Reginald was a great man, of course, he knew what was best. 

But this was her daughter. Literally the reason she was created.

Grace cleared lunch away and she subdued the red flags in her system that screamed Vanya’s individuality a threat and she sat in front of her paintings and she changed herself.

Now Vanya had smiles that Grace couldn’t place. Without provoking, her ‘I love you’ smile slid onto her face.

~

Vanya informed her that when she and the others snuck out to buy clothes, they normally stuck to consignment and thrift stores. Grace mainly knew of department stores that Pogo had ‘suggested’, but before they left the café, Vanya asked the baristas for recommendations. 

They went to a couple department stores first, where Vanya got jeans and plain button ups and slacks. She told Grace that any unique pieces wouldn’t be found in a department store. 

There was a consignment store that the barista named Jane suggested, and they got there around one oh three post meridiem. Even in her initial analytic scan, this store was much different than the ones they had already gone to.

It was cluttered, clothing racks packed in leaving just enough space to maneuver. Grace could see labels reading ‘shirts’ or ‘pants or ‘dresses’ but beyond that, there didn’t appear to be any organization, no matter how insistent her scans were to find a pattern.

Vanya was already off browsing through jackets. Grace wasn’t quite sure where to start.

She didn’t know what Vanya’s style was. She’d only ever seen her in uniform or her siblings’ clothes. So Grace decided to wander.

Her analysis noted that nothing they had found would fit Vanya as well as her uniform had, so Grace made note to save time to tailor them before she left. With that in mind, she didn’t limit her findings by size. 

She had gathered a few garments, a button up with a leaf design that would work well with Vanya’s coloring, a set of overalls, a bomber jacket that she planned to bring home for Ben. 

But she was caught. 

A skirt under her fingers. Nothing like the uniform skirts or the skirts Grace herself would wear. It seemed like it would lay tight to her form. A dark purple pencil skirt. 

It wasn’t something Vanya would ever wear. 

She couldn’t move on.

“Do you like it?”

Somehow, Grace’s guard had fallen enough that Vanya surprised her. 

“Oh, yes dear. I know you wouldn’t wear it though. What have you found?”

Vanya’s head was tilted. “Do you want to try it on?”

Grace’s lips formed the words, “Can I?” before any of her thought processes could react. 

“We can find you a matching shirt.” Vanya was smiling, almost enough to override Grace’s reservations.

“Reginald wouldn’t like it.”

Vanya’s smile hardened. Grace’s facial recognition patterns logged the expression as a mix of perseverance, dislike, and a kind of manic glee that usually only Klaus displayed. The two had been spending a fair amount of time together, it would follow that she had picked up on his mannerisms.

“We’ll get you a closet for when you’re here. Fuck Reginald.”

“Language, dear.”

After that, Vanya seemed like she was on a mission. She deposited the items she’d chosen for herself at the register, and then she was flitting through the store.

“We have to figure out what you like, Mom. You’ve never had any choice in your clothing, have you?”

“No.” Grace wasn’t sure she’d ever even had an opinion on what she wore. It had never seemed to matter.

Style was a sign of an individual, and she had always been a creation of Reginald’s perfect housewife. She wasn’t an individual, she was a robot with his will superimposed onto her. Still…

She had been manipulating her code for years now. Why? To fit the code of ethics she subscribed to? Was that not how humans cultivated personal growth?

She pulled a brown leather jacket from the hanger. It would match well with a shirt Vanya had chosen. 

This whole event culminated in quite the fashion show. Grace liked some things, and she didn’t like others. She hadn’t known she could do that. Like things. 

Between the two of them, they left that store with seven bags.

Vanya insisted they go back to a department store, just to get Grace a pair of jeans. 

“Klaus is going to love shopping with you, Mom,” Vanya said after Grace had chosen a pair of skinny blue jeans. 

Grace smiled her ‘pleased’ smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

~

Their evening was calm. It was their last night in the hotel, so they went to Vanya’s apartment to set up the bare minimum they would need to spend the night there. 

Once they were back to the hotel, Vanya ordered room service for dinner and settled down with her book. 

Grace watched her for a moment and pondered the ability to miss someone. 

Then she pulled out her sewing kit to begin tailoring Vanya’s clothing. 

It was a few hours later, right after Vanya prepared for bed.

“Mom?”

“Vanya?” She gave her daughter her full attention.

“Do you think, tomorrow, instead of just working on the apartment, we could do something touristy? I saw a pamphlet downstairs.”

“That sounds lovely, sweetie. Just remember, checkout is at ten, so we need to be packed and ready to go to the apartment by then.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight.”

~

At eleven twenty-seven and fifty-one seconds post meridiem, Grace ordered tea. Chamomile. She sat on her charging station and drank until the pot was empty. She found she could multitask. Adjust her programming and drink.

Maybe the best life for her children wasn’t in the manor. Reginald was a great man. She could be careful. She’d done so thus far. 

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for that unexpected hiatus. My life was catapulted into chaos and this fell on the back burner.
> 
> But here I am again!
> 
> Ideally the next chapter will be up in a few weeks. My drive for this series is still strong.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and thank you for all the lovely comments!


	5. Chapter 5

DAY 5: FRIDAY

~

Five o’clock ante meridiem on the dot Grace opened her eyes. She would need to wake Vanya by seven at the latest in order to maintain their morning ritual and be out of the hotel by nine-thirty. She was unsure how unpacked Vanya had gotten in the hotel, and though Grace only required her charging station she would likely be tailoring until Vanya was awake.

Grace considered ordering tea. So far it had no detrimental qualities to her functioning. It didn’t have any benefits either, and her processes marked it as irrelevant and generally a poor use of energy.

She called room service and asked for a pot of green tea. 

She started her mornings work. She fitted three of the garments that Vanya had wanted tailored—oddly enough she had requested that some of them fit badly—and she considered going to the lobby to talk with Miranda.

Her data flagged her attention to recall Miranda saying she wasn’t working of Friday. Grace didn’t expect to feel put out about that fact. 

Two garments later, and as she was on the last of the tea, Grace realized she had finished with everything Vanya needed tailored. Her subprocesses analyzed all else that needed done.

She needed to pack away her charging station.

She needed to empty and clean her substance pocket.

She needed to get dressed and ready for the day.

Unprompted, her gaze wandered to the bag that contained the clothes they’d chosen for her. They were for while she was in Chicago, after all. 

She sorted through each piece, noting that the weather that day had the chance of rain. She would have to blend in with the humans.

She wanted to try wearing her jeans. Before their fashion show the night before, Grace had never worn pants. They clung around her waist and bottom and upper legs, but below that they loosened. The store had called them ‘boot cut’. 

They fit well. The mirror showed her that they were appropriately human. Grace had never worn pants before.

There was a rather plain white collared button up she chose as a shirt. It fit like the one she had left at home, but this one had little pink polka dots on it. It felt familiar. She stuck with her nude heels as well. 

She would need a jacket, however, what with the rain, so she set out the brown leather jacket Vanya had convinced her to buy. It wouldn’t fit her well, it was too large, but she had no programming on how to alter leather, so it was likely best left alone.

She cleaned her substance pocket and packed away her charging stations and clothes. She left Vanya’s out so she could choose what to wear that day. 

Then it was six forty six and thirty three seconds. Grace still wasn’t comfortable with idle time. She saw a stack of pictures, the polaroid photos that Vanya had been taking. 

There were the ones of the first day, of the lake that ate the horizon. Of her and of her daughter. But there were more photos there, ones Grace hadn’t known Vanya had taken. 

One of the view from her apartment, the lake peeking beyond the buildings.

One of Grace hailing a taxi.

One of the café they went to every morning.

One of Miranda bent over, flipping through her art. 

One of Grace trying on the pencil skirt. 

One of a night, the flash illuminating Grace while she charged, and Vanya had somehow maneuvered the camera so that she was in the frame as well. 

Grace did hope Vanya would let her keep some. 

“Hey, Mom.”

Grace looked at her daughter, her ‘I love you’ and ‘good morning’ smiles rolled into one, a smile she hoped to be warm and soft.

“Good morning, dear. These are lovely.”

“Thanks,” Vanya said, looking at the one on top. “They’re happy moments. It feels nice to collect them.”

Grace reached out and stroked Vanya’s hair. “Would you mind if I took one or two back with me?”

Vanya sat beside Grace on the couch and pulled her into a hug, a hug where the girl was curled into her mother’s side, the mom was curved around her, protecting.

“I would love that.”

~

Through breakfast and moving the remainder of their things into the apartment, and even getting into the cab, Vanya refused to tell her what the plans for the day were. She leaned to the driver and whispered the destination to him, and Grace didn’t hear a word of it.

She considered being concerned, but her data said not to be. Vanya was a trustworthy girl, nothing to be on guard about. 

In addition, children needed to hold more responsibilities as they age to give them confidence. Vanya still needed more confidence.

The taxi pulled to a stop in front of the Art Institute of Chicago. A building in classical architecture and colorful sheets proclaiming exhibits. People funneled into the front doors, and Vanya led Grace to follow those crowds. They paid their admission, then Vanya seemed content to follow to the exhibits Grace wanted to see. 

There was no empirical data on this. No way for her data to calibrate which pieces would make a person feel more, which pieces were more worth viewing than others.

Free time was one thing but unguided wandering?

Grace wandered.

She saw Monet and Hieromynous Bosch and a photography project on migrants and a collection of Native American metal work and Jackson Pollock and renaissance sculptures. She heard Vanya take a picture in the sculpture garden, so she posed her daughter for one as well, and had a photo of the two of them taken in front of a fountain.

She stood in front of Degas. She stared at Picasso until something shifted and his viewpoint made sense. She craved to fade into Van Gogh, and study Da Vinci’s sketches until she new them all.

It began to feel like her data stores were overburdened, but that was impossible. Maybe she was overwhelmed, that whatever essence of self she held was overexposed. 

She promised herself she’d leave after the next exhibit. She held Vanya’s hand. The girl did not need someone to hold her hand. Maybe Grace did. 

The room was dark, and rather small. An exhibit titled “Femininity in Prehistory”. 

There were embroidered and decorated shoes and robes. Jewelry, strands of tarnished metals and jewels. Cuff bracelets and hammered rings. Sewing needles and jars and vases.

At the far end of the room was a glass case holding three small statuettes. They were all clearly women, what with their enlarged breasts and hips and accentuated vulvas. The plaque called them Venus Figurines. 

Her own breasts felt heavy. She thought of her skirts and dresses at the mansion, flared to accentuate her waist and hips.

She was an android, she knew. An android to fulfill the roll of motherhood. Synthetic flesh stretched taut over wires and a metal frame built as a woman. As femininity. As a shrine to fertility and homestead care.

Her data kept falling short of a process. 

She didn’t know how long she stood there, a circuit short of a connection. But she knew Vanya had rested her head on her shoulder. She knew her hands were perfectly poised over the rough leather of her jacket. 

Her internal sense of time stated that it was four ten and forty seconds post meridiem when she finally emerged from her reverie. 

“Are you ready to leave, love?” Grace said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, Mom. Have you seen everything you want to?”

“For now.”

As she walked through the museum towards the exit, her ‘pleased’ smile never once slipped.

~

“Wait, Mom,” Vanya said, just before they walked back onto the streets. She nodded at the gift shop. “Could we look? Ben and Allison have been getting really into art, they might have supplies here.”

Grace smiled her ‘I appreciate your actions’ smile. “I’m sure they would love that.”

Vanya poured over the art supplies, and Grace perused the rest of the store. She found a book on the symbology of plants that she rather thought Luther would enjoy. He’d started his own garden. She thought Rhys might enjoy a collectors mug. She got Diego a puzzle, something for him to do with his hands.

Vanya had Ben and Allison covered, so all that was left was Klaus. She was holding a Buddha Board for him, a stone board that could be painted on in water only to erase as it dries. She thought it could be a solution to the frenzied scrawls on his walls.

She was looking through the jewelry though, just in case. And she saw it.

A bracelet cuff, designed of lace-like metal into a geometric pattern. It would cover most of her forearm.

She added it to her checkout pile. Yet another thing to distinguish her time in Chicago from her time in the mansion. 

Vanya joined her only moments later, with a set of sketching pens for Allison and pastels for Ben.

Grace put on her new bracelet before they left, carefully pulling her jacket sleeve over.

“That looks beautiful.”

“Thank you, love.”

And they stepped into the light misty rain.

~

Her daughter was a capable young woman.

Grace knew that, she did.

But all the same. 

“Dear, have I taught you how to do laundry?”

“Yeah, I’ve helped you with it some.”

Her data stores confirmed this. But… “Do you know how to clean the bathroom, love?”

“Yes, Mom.” Surely her most even-tempered child wasn’t using a tone of exasperation with her.

“What about vacuuming? Can you vacuum?”

“Should we go to the store? Get some basic food items? Cleaning supplies?”

Vanya was already tying on her shoes, abandoning the blanket she was folding. Grace hummed her acquiescence. Grace found her ‘pleased’ smile mixing with her ‘don’t be silly’ smile. Maybe ‘amused’ was the better descriptor.

~

Grace was cooking and Vanya was in the living room reading. It felt to her that something had shifted back to the status quo. It felt to her like it chaffed, just slightly, an itch in the section of her processes that couldn’t be attributed to coding.

She decided firmly against exploring that itch. In two days she would be returning to the mansion and she would have to wait for change. 

The change she envisioned would be neither quick or easy. She would have to be patient, cautious.

Her data knew that Pogo and Reginald wouldn’t like that she could adjust her own coding. 

Her essence knew they wouldn’t like that she was evolving beyond codes. 

It was easy, though, after dinner, to call the mansion and talk to her children. Her and Vanya passed the phone between them, and so did the children on the other end of the line. They talked the way they always talked—never out of line enough to flag Reginald’s attention. 

They all talked of visits, and of missing. 

Grace wasn’t sure how she could live with one of her children always being away. 

~

Vanya fell asleep halfway through a movie that night, curled on the couch under a soft new blanket. Grace let the movie play to the end before she stood and readied her charging station for the night.

In a moment of inspiration, she pulled out the polaroid and snapped a photo of Vanya. 

That one she was keeping.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to go!
> 
> Sorry this is so delayed & short. I've never written this much fluff before and it's getting monotonous. I really do apologize for the weaker writing as well.
> 
> Right now the goal is to polish off these last chapters and move on to the next one! Our regularly scheduled angst!
> 
> Thank you for keeping up!

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Ah yes, I have finished this lovely, angsty, plotted fic a few days before being wifi-less for five days  
> Me: I can use that time to write and create a security net  
> Me: *mental health is shit* I should write fluff  
> Me: ....... this is a multi chapter fluff fic about Grace becoming more human.  
> Me: Shoot darn
> 
> So yeah! posting will be a bit spotty for a tick, but I wanted to throw this first chapter up because I Crave Validation
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I always appreciate any and all feedback :)


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